Return to Allerdale Hall
by nikiverse
Summary: Set after the events of Crimson Peak, Edith has married Dr. Alan McMichael. After having haunting dreams about hurting their child, Wilhelmina, Edith returns to Allerdale Hall to rid herself of the spirit haunting her new life. During her travels, she meets two men who help her along the journey.
1. Chapter 1

Edith took the hand of the African as he escorted her into the carriage. Inside was a white male wearing a bowler hat and trench, sporting a long cane. He appeared well-to-do and polite.

"Your name again, sir?" Edith asked.

"Lawrence," he replied with an American accent and kind eyes. Edith nodded and took a seat. She heard the African whip the horse to a trot and off they went. To where? She did not yet know. Edith had not thought out her plan beyond stepping off the boat upon her arrival in England.

* * *

There was a time Edith thought she should check herself into an asylum.

Edith played off the persistent compulsions as meaningless, yet invasive, thoughts. The soft voices heard whispering in her ear were just imaginings. But sometimes she could _feel_ the moisture from their breath on her neck. Like something was there.

Then, the dreams.

First, they were silly nightmares that, over time, turned into night terrors. Other times she would shake, Alan throttling her shoulders until she woke. _But they are just dreams_ , she thought.

The last straw happened two weeks ago. Edith, blissful under layers of heavy blankets, slept during a chilly Buffalo fall night. As she came to, her knees ached from kneeling on the bathroom tile and water splashed on her forearms. She remembered a person shoving her to the side and the object in her hands wrenched from her grasp. The realization of her actions hit her when she saw Alan standing with a shrieking child in his arms. _Their_ child. Wilhelmina.

"What are you doing?" Alan yelled.

"I don't know! I don't know!" Edith cried, still confused.

"Were you trying to drown our daughter?"

"No, no! I would never … "

But she just had.


	2. Chapter 2

Edith had left Alan a note and Wilhelmina a kiss during the cover of night.

Her destination? Allerdale Hall. She knew her visions and nightmares originated from that horrid place, and she knew that is where they would end. If she was wrong, the asylum would be waiting for her with open arms.

After the long journey from New York to London, Edith felt as if she had already escaped many dangers. The men with missing teeth and the coughing children with reaching hands harassed her on the boat. She was kind to them, but still frightened. Edith was a woman of means, but she was still a woman.

And now she was in a carriage with two strangers – a white male named Lawrence and an unnamed African. And why was she in a carriage driven by an unnamed African? He never offered the information, and Edith thought it rude to ask his name outright.

The second, more important question she demanded of herself was how she ended up with these two strangers in the first place. The creatures also journeying across the Atlantic offered distasteful arrangements. Edith did not care for them one bit. (She would also prefer to never again smell the pungent scents some of the men bore.) But these two men, dignified and dapper, offered an inexpensive bed – in the city, nonetheless. The American seemed to like adventure. He had already advocated escorting her to Allerdale Hall. She still had the distance to travel to that wretched place, and they had transportation. How could she refuse?

Edith had no plan once she arrived at Allerdale Hall. She just hoped a solution would occur to her. These men alluded to a vague skill set they possessed. Perhaps they could solve her particular puzzle. Or maybe the house would just eat her up. Either way, Wilhelmina would be safe.

Edith glanced at this mysterious man she had met off the boat. _Lawrence_ , t _here are no accidents_ , she thought as she fixed her gloves.

* * *

Edith struggled to hide her surprise at the impressive living quarters she would be staying at over the night. For the price, she had predicted a dinner of bread and goat's milk before she fell asleep on a straw bed. Maybe if she were at a fancier inn, she would have gone downstairs to the attached pub for a mediocre dinner with imbecilic drunks.

But this hotel was quite lavish. The foyer opened into a staircase leading up to a row of unmarked rooms. To the right of the foyer, there was a sitting room with plenty of leather couches surrounding a fireplace. A map completely covered the face of one wall, and books were strewn about on maple shelves and two long tables. The hotel appeared more of a home and less of a money making operation.

"Your inn has many books," Edith said, her finger trailing across the spines of the hardcovers.

Edith saw Lawrence glance at the African. "This is no inn, ma'am. We are in our partner's estate."

Edith raised her eyebrows and turned to Lawrence. "Who are you men, then? Does your partner even _know_ you are in his estate?"

Lawrence laughed to himself, shrugging his shoulders. "Yes, ma'am. He knows _we_ are here."

"I do not know if it is proper for me to stay the night anymore," Edith said.

"If you choose," Lawrence said, "you are free to leave." He spread his arms open towards the door. "But we were sent to you."

"By who? Your benefactor?" she asked, eyeing Lawrence. He walked to a leathery, brown chair and sat down.

"Mrs. McMichael," he finally said. "Do you believe in ghosts?"

"Don't dodge the question!"

"Do you believe in monsters?" He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "In hauntings? In demons?" Edith narrowed her eyes. "Because I do. We do, as a matter of fact." Lawrence waved to the African, silent and staring. Edith had forgotten he was in the room. "And we think if you believe in the monsters, the demons … might you believe in angels as well?"


	3. Chapter 3

"This will be your room for the night," the African said. He walked in and placed her luggage on a chair. A decent-sized iron bed and a dresser with a mirror was the room's only other contents. Compared to the rest of the house, the room was scant and austere. The only artwork was an unadorned Holy Cross on the opposite wall.

Edith turned to the African, the light hitting his face. Raised dots lined his cheeks in a methodical pattern, stopping underneath his eyes. She presumed these were scars from smallpox, but maybe they were a body decoration of some sort. Or, perhaps, a punishment?

He turned to leave. "Excuse me," she asked. "Do you have a name?" He stopped, but did not answer.

"Were you a slave? Did Lawrence rescue you?" She covered her mouth, trying to stop the curiosity. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry, I—"

"I have a name. Maybe one day you will learn it," he said. The African spoke with a Colonial British accent. He looked at Edith – not with fright of a past life, but with peace and strength. And Edith felt calm in his presence. A smile spread across his face, and he chuckled. "And what if _I_ rescued Lawrence? What if I am the master, and he is the slave?"

Edith smirked. "And where _is_ Lawrence, this slave of yours?"

"He has retired for the night. And that is enough of the questions for today. Good night, ma'am." He bowed and pulled the door shut behind him.

* * *

"… And I fear that Lucille seeks vengeance, so her spirit wants my child as retribution!" Edith exhaled as she finished her story. The African eyed Lawrence. Obviously, these two men had not read her book, _Crimson Peak_.

"Well?" Edith asked.

"We will need her," the African said to Lawrence.

"I know. I'm going with you," Edith interrupted.

Lawrence waved her off. "Either way, we need to leave now so we can get back before nightfall. We will get her. _If_ we need her. This could be not what we are imagining it to be."

"Pardon me, but am I not in the room right now?"

The African stood up and snatched his coat from the back of the couch. "We _will_ need her," he repeated.

Lawrence sighed and followed the African to the door. "Come, Edith."

* * *

The African drove the carriage to the gate leading to Allerdale Hall. Edith pulled a handkerchief to her face and crinkled her nose. She could smell the sickening clay. The stench reminded Edith her past was not a hallucination; it all happened.

Lawrence dropped out of the carriage and jogged to the gate. He tugged on the lock. He stepped back and pulled a gun from underneath his trenchcoat. Edith jumped as the gunshot reverberated through the countryside. Lawrence opened the gate and signaled the carriage inside.

 _Of course they have guns_ , Edith thought. _But what can guns do against spirits?_


	4. Chapter 4

"The door has rotted off. It's not shocking. Allerdale Hall was on its last leg when I was here." The gang of three walked past the moldy doorsill and entered the large foyer. The great yawning hole in the roof provided a snowglobe spectacle for the visitors. Dust blurred their vision, and leaves eddied around their legs. To their left, wide stairs lined the wall, gold-framed art and velvet canvases sat above the landing.

"The house greets us with roses," Lawrence said. He picked up a red petal that had settled next to his foot. Edith tried to suppress a smile while the African showed no emotion.

"It's stained, from the clay," she said. Lawrence dropped the petal, and it tumbled to the floor.

He changed the subject. "Edith, when you were here, what was important to Lucille?"

"Interesting," Edith said as she mused the question. "Lucille kept most of the rooms locked while I stayed here – the extra bedrooms, the servants' quarters…. I know! Let me show you the main sitting room."

They followed Edith to the large room at the end of the foyer. Heavy, moth-filled drapery lined the entrance and most windows. Though a large, stony fireplace virtually filled a whole wall, the room remained cold and claustrophobic. A spider-like chandelier hung over the dining table; it was buttressed by successive wooden arches supporting the ceiling. To the other side of the fireplace, a worn wheelchair sat next to mildewed chairs. Lawrence slid a cloth off the grand piano. Edith turned as the dust flung into the air.

"Lucille's?" Lawrence asked.

He sauntered to the ivories and pressed a piano key. The note reverberated through the room, then faded, as he walked past. In the silence, Edith still felt the timbre burning in her chest.

Lawrence continued walking towards Edith and the wheelchair. Another note, lower, filled the room. Everyone froze because no longer was anyone near the piano. Lawrence saw one of the keys held down by an invisible hand, all the way to the slip.

Another key moved, and an even lower note flooded the room. Edith covered her mouth with both hands.

And another note, even lower.

Then, a melody.

The African looked to Lawrence and back to the piano.

The melody flew upwards in a crescendo. The tempo sped up, and the notes overlapped. Edith moved her hands to her ears as the music surged in her head; it was all too loud. The house trembled and shook. Red clay began to ooze from the keys, muddling the notes. Edith felt like a Jack-in-the-Box, not sure what would pop when the time came. She stepped backwards, hitting the wheelchair.

Lawrence picked up his foot and felt it stick to the floor. The African looked down. The clay had pooled around their feet, the liquid quivering with heartbeat of the house.

As they inched back, the African yelled to Lawrence, but he could not hear. The music worsened, and the song sounded like a continuous yell in Edith's ears. She screamed along.

They saw the keys press down all at once and a strong minor chord dragged on their ribs, weighing them down. The keys released, and then another chord assaulted their senses. The clay gurgled and bubbled higher.

Finally, a release. Edith was drowning. The pause between the effects was like someone pulling her above the surface only to shove her under again.

Then, the final slamming down of keys, the horrendous note causing the beams of the manor to groan. The piano keys all shrieked at once and then - silence. Their ears adjusted and the house creaked, everything contracting then stretching.

The piano exploded into splinters of ivory and mahogany. Lawrence and the African flew into the air and slammed into the wall, sliding down onto the floor. Edith covered her face as she catapulted into the wheelchair and toppled over backwards.

Lawrence stood up, slipping in the clay. He walked to Edith and helped her to her feet. Pulling hair out of her face, he saw blood. She touched the back of her hand to her forehead and felt the sticky substance. "I'm okay," she said. "Thank you."

Lawrence turned to the African. "Get her. Now!"

Edith saw fear and an urgency in the African's eyes she had never seen before. He nodded and ran out of the room.

Lawrence and Edith jumped as they heard three even knocks from beneath their feet. They turned back towards the remnants of the piano, but it was whole again. He held her hand, and they stumbled to the exit. "Let's get outside until we get our reinforcements," Lawrence said. Edith bobbed her head up and down in agreement, and they ran through the snow now piling onto Allerdale Halls' floor.

Lawrence almost ran into Edith as she stopped in her tracks.

"Come on, we have to—"

She pointed to their exit. Lawrence saw the open doorway was now blocked. Not trusting his eyes, he ran to the door. The metal felt cold in his hands. He shook the handles, and it would not budge. He stood back as he brandished his gun. Two shots produced sparks but no damage. Indeed, the door was not an apparition.

He rested his forehead on the metal and hoped his friend made it out.


	5. Chapter 5

They sat at the door, and the distant knocking continued. Edith noticed Lawrence's eyes shifting and feet tapping. He had been quite the calm customer, considering. She thought he took the exploding piano admirably. But, as time passed, he seemed more nervous.

"Is there anything I can do to help? Do you have an ailment of some sort? Alan, my husband, is a doctor. I might know—"

"You can't fix the matter that is coming," Lawrence said.

"What are you talking about?" Edith asked, kneeling next to Lawrence. She rested her hand on his shoulder. He had been so helpful and, now, Edith might be able to help him.

"Ghosts. Demons. And then, me." Lawrence bowed his head and his voice lowered to a whisper. " _A monster._ "

Edith tried to suppress a laugh. "Impossible, Lawrence! You've helped me so much. How can this be? I see no monster in front of me. I see a man. A generous, kind man."

"Edith, when the time comes, you should hide from me."

Lawrence made no sense. Chipper and well moments ago, he now slid into a depressive state as the sky darkened. Maybe _he_ needed the asylum.

"Lawrence, I must say I disagree. I wholeheartedly disagree with you." She stood up, hoping to inspire Lawrence into practical action. "And I still have a task to finish, with or without you, but preferably with you. Now come on, chap." She smoothed her dress.

Lawrence jumped to his feet. "Edith, I'm still here for you. But we should wait for the others."

Edith said nothing.

He walked to her and enveloped her small hands inside his. "And you will hide from me if the time comes?"

Edith sighed but relented. "Of course," she said. With Lawrence's proclamation that she should hide from him at some mysterious moment for some mysterious reason, there was a realistic possibility Edith would be back where she started – alone.

Lawrence relaxed. "Good, good. While we wait, a quick lesson. Guns can only do so much," he began. "You must keep your wits and knowledge above all else."

Edith nodded.

Lawrence tapped his head. "This defeats evil."

She stepped closer to Lawrence, unable to shake her fear. "Will you assist me? If you can?" Edith's hair shone around her like a golden halo, and Lawrence wondered when she stopped listening.

He swallowed and answered. "Yes, if the time comes."

The earth stilled, and Edith heard her heart thumping throughout her head.

And not much else.

 _When did the knocking stop?_

Edith opened her mouth to ask Lawrence, but she plummeted to the ground, face-first. Lawrence lunged for her hand, but a force wrenched her away. Edith slid through the foyer, screaming, and disappearing around the corner.

"Edith," he yelled as he chased after her.

He only heard her voice. "Lawrence, help!"

He ran to the corner and saw Edith trapped inside a lift with an entity. Floating auburn hair and pale blue arms hovered around Edith. Lawrence banged on the cage as she struggled with the latch, their faces inches apart. The lift rattled to life as it began to lower. Edith froze as she slowly descended. Lawrence pulled his gun from his trench coat.

"Step back," he yelled.

He shot twice. The wretched ghost smiled through its disappearing and materializing hair. Lawrence dropped his hand by his side. His mind raced, but no thoughts formed.

"The stairs!" Edith yelled, jerking Lawrence from his stupor.

He searched for the stairs through the dank room. Everything was the same brown and green – dirt and decay.

Inside the elevator, Edith drifted into the air. A force hurled her hanging body into the wire cage. Edith coughed as she lost her breath, landing hard on the lift's floor. Edith blinked and Lucille, floating as if she were underwater, hovered in front of her face.

"You," she hissed. "You took everything." A long, gangling finger brushed Edith's cheek. She felt the cold but not the touch as everything faded to gray.

Meanwhile, the curl of a banister caught Lawrence's eye, and he saw the circular steps leading down into a dark abyss.

"Ethan!" He turned towards another voice behind him. The shadow of a female in a silk, long-sleeved dress reached towards him. "Come quick."


	6. Chapter 6

Edith gasped as she woke from her trance. She fixated on the apparition's eyes, those never-ending nebulous orbs, and felt every nerve inside her body relax. Lucille's hair churned, mixing with the atmosphere like oil in water. Edith could not recall Lucille's hair ever being down. It was always in an updo.

Edith reached for Lucille.

Lucille recoiled, slinking her arm across her transparent face. Twinkling sounds danced in her head, and Edith wanted to dance.

Lucille retreated further. Edith didn't want her to get lost in the shadows. She laughed to herself. "Where are you going, Lucille? Let me brush your hair."

Lucille retreated deeper into the darkness, and Edith felt her back crack as she rose from the ground, aches pouring down her spine. But it didn't matter, nothing mattered. Only the music. And only Lucille.

Edith reached towards Lucille, who seemed always out of reach.

"I'll come to you," Lucille said.

" _Yes_ ," Edith whispered.

Lucille extended her arm, and Edith froze. The ground felt lighter under her feet, and lighter still, until she was hovering inches above the ground.

"Come with me, Edith. Will you come?"

Edith floated in the air and stretched towards Lucille.

Lucille reached her hand towards Edith. The tip of Lucille's finger flickered from nothing and back to an apparition. Lucille scowled and yanked her arm back. Determined, she concentrated on Edith. Lucille reached her transparent fingers towards Edith again. As she touched Edith's face, Edith gasped and her head lolled back. Lucille's transparent hand morphed into a gray liquid.

A terrible grin spread across Lucille's face, and she licked her lips. "Do you feel that Edith?"

The gray of her finger solidified into black, necrotic flesh. Lucille witnessed the ecstatic transition as her other fingers turned from liquid to solid. She tightened her fist, and bones cracked. Pain radiated through her hand as the tissue reached her wrist. She hadn't felt pain in a long time. Lucille cocked her head and laughed.

The blood emptied from Edith's face and her muscles tightened. Her legs drew up towards her chest as she started shivering.

Urgency shook Lucille from the splendid moment as the advance of flesh paused at her forearm.

"It'll do," she said to herself.

Lucille jerked forward and clawed her hand around Edith's neck. The lightness supporting Edith released. Her weight fell towards the concrete vats, but Lucille squeezed tighter. Edith grappled for Lucille's arm – one hand finding the fleshy portion to support her weight, the other swiping through space. At the same time, she swung her heavy legs, trying to kick free from certain doom.

Twirling like binary stars, Lucille held onto Edith, waiting for her last breath. "When you die, I will protect your child. "

"No," Edith choked.

"No? Perhaps, you're right. I could … _become_ your child." Lucille beamed and angled her head. "And when I grow to a child-bearing age, I will come into Alan's quarters. And we can have the family that Thomas and I never had."

Tears welled in Edith's eyes.

"Edith!" Another voice entered the room.

Lucille heard Lawrence's yelling. She saw Edith's eyes move towards his voice. She tightened her grip. Edith's eyes bulged in response.

"Edith, let go! Let go of her arm!"

Edith tried to shake her head in protest.

"Edith, you have to trust me!"

Edith was about to faint. What use was it to hold on any longer? She let go of Lucille's arm and felt all her weight rest in the ghost's unyielding grip.

Lawrence saw flesh and took aim. One true shot.

 _Bang!_

The ghost recoiled its arm in pain and a pig-like squeal reverberated throughout the basement. Lucille shot through the ceiling, a blood spot remaining at her portal. Edith plummeted to the earth and fell into a vat full of red clay. Lawrence's arms were already there, pulling her out. She flailed for his shoulders. Finding them, she squeezed him into a tight hug as the tears poured out of her body.

"Thank you, thank you so much," she repeated.

"Hey there. I'm here." He patted Edith's back.

"Oh Lawrence," she said, through her sobs. "She's just going to find me again! She'll find my daughter! I'm forever cursed!"

He pulled Edith away from him. "No. Help has arrived. Follow me."


	7. Chapter 7

Lawrence escorted Edith up the stairs, back into the main sitting room.

Edith saw a female playing a slow, mournful tune on the piano. She looked to be wearing a macabre, velvet dress with a high collar. Her hair sat in a high chignon. Edith saw her wrists and hands, which were no longer gangrened and rotting but smooth and porcelain.

Edith shrieked, pulling away from Lawrence. "She's alive!"

The woman playing the piano stopped and spoke. "I would hope so, otherwise you'd be in quite a pickle." She stood and faced them.

Edith's mouth dropped. This was not Lucille, but another woman.

"And you are?" Edith asked.

"This is … Vanessa," Lawrence said.

The woman walked closer to Edith. Lawrence let go of Edith's shoulders and nudged her closer to the stranger. She was tall and thin, intimidating yet affable. She reached her hand out, and Edith was afraid to touch her.

"Well, the pleasantries may happen later. We do have work to do." Vanessa's face turned serious. "Ethan, go home. It's almost night. Sembene will stay with me."

Edith looked to Lawrence who placed his hand on Vanessa's arm and gazed into Vanessa's eyes – the way Alan looked into hers.

Lawrence waved goodbye to Edith and sprinted towards the entrance.

"The exit's blocked," Edith said.

Vanessa shook her head. "Not anymore." She turned toward the piano and opened her clutch.

"His name is Lawrence?" Edith muttered.

Throaty laughter tinkered out of Vanessa's mouth as she walked towards the piano. "Oh, Mr. Chandler has a checkered past. Lawrence is _one_ of his names." She faced Edith. "But some call him Ethan."

Vanessa pulled chalk out of her clutch. She leaned over and drew a circle around the piano. Edith heard her recite a poem or, perhaps, a spell. The African came into the room with a torch.

"Sembene?" Edith asked. Sembene extended the torch away from his body and placed the other hand behind his back as he bowed to Edith.

Sembene stood up, and Vanessa gestured towards the piano. Sembene strolled towards the instrument and touched its top board with the torch. He then tapped the flame in a circle surrounding the piano. Fire crackled and engulfed the surface. Unlike the catastrophic explosion of the piano earlier, Edith saw the ivory melting over the keyslip like ice cream down one's chin on a warm, summer day. Strings snapped under the persistent heat, and the blaze grew larger.

Vanessa held her arm outstretched towards the piano.

 _Quacumque die invocavero vane fortitudinem meam_  
 _Delebimus enim insigne  
Linque nullum retro  
Linque nullum retro  
Linque nullum retro_

Red clay seeped out from underneath the piano's lid. The legs crumpled from underneath the grand piano and a burst of flames engulfed everything within the circle. Edith turned away in shock, and a faraway wail emanated through the walls.

Sembene interrupted the dancing flames. "She will get stronger if we do not hurry."

Vanessa turned to Edith. "Come on, lovely. Follow me."


	8. Chapter 8

They hurried through the foyer to the main entrance. The exit which was blocked earlier was now demolished. Edith shuffled past the bent and scattered pieces of the door as they exited the house. She followed Vanessa and Sembene to Thomas's clay harvester.

Vanessa halted and scrutinized Allerdale Hall. Sembene beckoned Edith away from Vanessa, who was now chanting. Her face looked angry and her eyes turned dark and stormy.

 _Nullum insigne retro nullum insigne retro nullum insigne retro_.

Vanessa clenched her hand into a fist. In the next moment, the house crumbled to the ground – all of it, every single bit. Edith squeaked and jumped back. Dust and cawing birds expanded into a burgeoning cloud. Vanessa turned away from the house and fell to her knees. Hand trembling, she handed a small, leather bag to Edith. "You must do the last part." Edith took the bag from Vanessa and pulled it into her chest.

"Why?" she asked.

Vanessa sat herself up straighter by resting her hands on her thighs. She looked up towards Edith. "Because if I do, I can't come back so easily."

"Then, I will do what I must," Edith said, voice shaking.

Sembene walked towards Edith and motioned to Thomas's rusting contraption. He continued past Edith to the far side of the machine. Edith followed him to investigate the sides of the equipment.

"No, no," said Sembene. "Not the machine." He pointed to the ground. Edith followed his hand and saw a body, facedown in the snow. Lucille's body had been dug up. She could see the fresh earth, the frozen mud in her hair. Edith froze in terror.

"Edith," said Vanessa. Edith flinched and turned towards Vanessa. "You and I are bound."

"By what?"

"By who."

 _Ethan?_

She looked back at Lucille's body. An apparition pushed itself up from the ground. "Who did this?" Lucille cried. The ghost knelt by its body, arms outstretched in confusion. "Who unearthed me? Answer me!" She looked around and pointed to Edith. "You! Damn you to hell!"

Edith shivered and shook her head.

"No, of course it wasn't weak, little, spineless Edith. She couldn't harm a fly!" Lucille eyed Vanessa. "It was you. You … witch!" She floated closer, pointing an accusatory finger.

"Do not listen to the ghoul, Edith," Vanessa interrupted. "I will tell you what to do."

Edith nodded in agreement, ready to rid the earth and all its lands of Lucille.

Vanessa dropped her chin and stared at Edith. Edith held the leather bag tighter, unsure of what would come.

All at once, a searing pain filled Edith's mind. Lightning bolts ran past her eyes, as she clutched her head. "Get out," Edith said. Her knees buckled. "Get out, you witch!"

Vanessa stepped back. Edith could breath again as the invasion ceased.

Lucille twisted to Vanessa, studying her. "You're no witch. You must be _demon_!"

Vanessa jutted her chin in a show of defiance. "I'm no demon, but I know enough of hell to know it is ready for your entrance."

Sembene urged Edith. "We can not delay. Pour the powder on the body, now!"

Edith nodded to herself. "Yes. Yes, I can do that."

"Allies with a demon, Edith? I'm impressed," Lucille clicked.

Edith pulled open the leather bag and lifted it over Lucille's earthly body. "No," Lucille yelled as she flew to her body and wafted her arms through the trail of powder falling from the leather bag. The contents emptied onto Lucille's corpse and hair.

Lucille softened her tone and faced Edith. "That one," she said, and pointed a long, knobby finger towards Vanessa, "The Devil loves that one. As much as I love Thomas, I'm telling the truth."

"We are bound, Edith," Vanessa continued. "I have dark moments. But you are so bright; you are light." Edith's eyes widened as she listened.

"I can not do this. I am not a, a … demon," she whimpered.

 _Demon, witch, … monster_.

Ethan thought himself a monster. But he was brave. He was sharp. He shot Lucille with one bullet. He brought her into their home and transported her to this cursed house in the first place. Edith trusted Ethan, and he trusted Vanessa.

"I'm afraid," Edith said.

"We all have been afraid, Edith. But fear will grow if you hide from it. Fear only needs itself to feed upon."

Ethan was afraid. But he managed his fear.

"You will only be alone for a moment." Vanessa said. She extended her hand towards Edith, and Edith closed her eyes and nodded.

Claws ripped through Edith's head and teeth gnashed in her chest. But this time, Edith did not cower back. She crouched next to the body and hovered her hands over the corpse. The apparition flew into the air and circled around the clay harvester in a manic frenzy.

Edith shook as ravens stomped inside her chest. She felt murmuring in her belly. The voices were whispers, but she could hear them. Wind whipped her hair as the elements responded to the sorcery. The words stopped overlapping and became one song. Edith spoke.

 _Sicut flamma frigescit_  
 _Et animam et corpus_  
 _Ad alteram partem_  
 _Nullum insigne retro_  
 _Nullum insigne retro_  
 _Nullum insigne retro_

The flesh hissed as the corpse sank an inch into the ground. The ghost shrieked as it lengthened towards the dead body. The rotted skin shriveled and the bones bent in response, digging deeper into the earth. Lucille moaned as her old vessel vowed to restore its past inhabitant, hungering for its last earthly bite.

The wind burst into a fury, and the red clay rose. Lucille's wails were lost as she spiraled like a tornado into her corpse. The apparition vanished into the body, and the wind stilled.

Vanessa walked to Sembene, both witnesses to Lucille's final complaint.

Edith's body felt tired, but her chest heaved, ready for more. Rage burned in her eyes and snakes battled in her chest. Power consumed her every fiber.

"She is gone," Vanessa said, sensing words needed to be spoken.

Salva frothed at Edith's mouth, and she turned her distorted torso to face Vanessa.

"Do not cleave to the dark," Vanessa said, keeping her voice calm. "Misery is not your true love."

"Don't scold me, fiend!" Edith growled.

 _Find your strength, Edith._

"Get out of my head!" Edith said, clutching her ears and curling into herself.

 _What do you love?_

Edith shut her eyes and brought her attention to Alan and Wilhelmina. She felt Vanessa's hand on her back and crumpled to the ground. A weight lifted off of her body, and Edith felt herself again. She leaned into Vanessa, and a small stream of tears traveled around her pale, rosy cheeks.

Sembene walked towards Edith with the torch in his hand. Edith pulled away from Vanessa and rose from the ground. Sembene handed her the torch. She wrapped her hands around the handle and faced the wreckage of the house.

Crimson Peak would burn.

* * *

Sembene readied the carriage while Vanessa and Edith remained next to the clay harvester. There was no longer any sign of Lucille's body.

"You should never come back to Allerdale Hall's ruins," Vanessa warned. "She is gone. But there is still another here. I feel … him."

"I would not dare," Edith said as she shook her head. "Will I ever see you again?"

"Pray you never have to," Vanessa said. She wiped imaginary dust from beneath Edith's eye.

Edith bowed her head. "You never told me." She looked at Vanessa. "Who told you? To help me?"

"Mina," she said.

"My Mina?"

"Our Mina."


	9. Chapter 9

Eyes flew open, and the man sat up.

He looked around, but saw nothing.

He tried to scream, but no sound came out.

Blurred grays filled his vision. He squinted his eyes but, again, saw nothing. He slowed his mind, and his vision cleared.

He was in a concrete cell.

He tried to listen, and heard nothing. Magnets pulled him towards a corner. His vision sharpened more, and he saw a plaque.

 _Sir Thomas Sharpe  
Beloved Husband and Loving Brother  
May He Rest in Peace_

Thomas blinked, and he was floating above his dearly loved harvester. Happiness bubbled around him, and he fondly recalled a house.

Another flash of light. Destruction covered the landscape and fury filled Thomas.

His love had called him from the grave; his Crimson Peak was gone.


End file.
